Dairy Queen
by Anamin
Summary: GS. A short discussion about my favorite place to go get ice cream, or whatever you would like to call it. Rating for minor suggestiveness.


A/N: Standard Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, I only wish I owned Grissom. This story pays homage to my favorite dairy food place of all time. I have no idea if there are any Dairy Queens in Las Vegas, but for the sake of my story I'm going to assume that there are. On with the show.

Dairy Queen

"You are a strange creature," Sara said to Greg as she once again walked in on the now familiar scene of him singing and dancing in his seat to one of his eclectic music choices. He was dancing around with a sign on taped to his forehead; it said "Temet Noste."

"Tell me about it."

"What does Tem-et Nos-te mean anyway?" Sara asked tentatively.

"Temet Noste, its Latin and means-"Know Thyself." You have to be in touch with yourself Sara, you'll be happier if you do. Maybe you wouldn't be so moody."

"Yeah Greg I'm sure you're _veerry_ familiar with yourself." Sara suddenly realized how that sounded and also realized that she didn't even want go there. She kept her thoughts to herself.

"Hey, I've suddenly got a chocolate craving. Do you want to go to Dairy Queen?" Greg asked.

"Dairy. Queen?"

"Yeah, you know, the place to go get ice cream...well not ice cream, because I've been told that Dairy Queen isn't ice cream, it's really frozen custard, but then I've been told it's not that either. I can only best describe Dairy Queen as a frozen Dairy product that may have come from a cow at one point in time-"

"Greg! Stop Rambling. I know what Dairy Queen is. We can't just leave in the middle of shift anyway. Do you have my test results yet?"

"Not quite yet."

"You know I'm a vegetarian, so why would I want to have anything to do with anything that came from a cow?"

"A Vegetarian, not a Vegan, there's a subtle difference. I've been doing my homework." He beamed a grin at her.

"Quite honestly, I'm lactose intolerant."

"Did you know that people who are lactose intolerant don't have any symptoms if they drink the milk within 15 minutes after it comes from the cow?"  
"Where do you get all of this information from?"

"I dunno. What can I say? I'm just the King of useless facts and knowledge."

"Tell me about it," said Grissom as he walked in on the scene. "I need those blood results right now. I have to know if my evidence is warrant-worthy or not."

"Sure thing boss, here you go." Greg handed over the test results.

"Thank you," Grissom walked out of the lab. Sara stood there with her mouth hung open. "What just happened here?"

"I can't tell you that, but I _can_ tell you that Franklin Pierce was considered the best-looking president of all time."

"I always thought it was Kennedy. . ."

"Shows what you know." Sara spit her tongue out at Greg, and went to chase her results. "Hey get back here,! Don't show me that thing unless you plan to use it!" Greg called after her.

Sara knocked on Grissom's doorjamb, and began without waiting for a response. "So is that a match?" Sara began seriously.

"Yeah, it is, we should head over and get our warrant. But I've got a serious chocolate craving Miss Sidle. And I know for a fact that there's a Dairy Queen on the way. Would you like to accompany me?" he winked at her.

"You were standing in the doorway the whole time, you fiend! I was waiting for those test results!" Sara slapped him lightly on the shoulder. He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it.

"Do pardon me madam," he said in an exaggerated tone. She couldn't help but smile. These days it was hard for her to either get or stay mad at Gil Grissom. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could protest Grissom responded for her.

"And don't tell me you're lactose intolerant because I know for a fact that you drink milk with your dinner every evening and it's a good thing, too for future plans."

Sara smiled. It hadn't been easy, but she was glad their relationship was a secret for now. They'd figure out the complicated parts later. At the moment, they were too busy enjoying each other's ahem . . . 'company'.

"Why Gil Grissom I do believe it's a date," Sara said in a faux southern accent. With that, Grissom grabbed his jacket leading Sara out by the elbow.

-FIN-


End file.
